Continuity and Dandelions of the year.

I stepped into that warmth.

I stretched toward the sun.

Then, I stepped on steps and climbed to the edge of the meadow.

I found the cat; she too was on the edge of the meadow.

Together we admired the Dandelions.

I wish there were more, but the seeds drift to the west and loose themselves in the forest below.

I see that the walnut tree has not yet spoken.

No leaves ruffle its thinking brow.

Spring takes her time.